


Borrowed, Blue

by swordliliesandebony



Series: Gladnis Drabbles and Shortfic [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, VERY background past promptis, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 12:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14044602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordliliesandebony/pseuds/swordliliesandebony
Summary: Stolen moments, borrowed monuments, and unavoidable memories.Or, some Gladnis wedding day fluff that got a little bit sad.





	Borrowed, Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on [tumblr](http://swordliliesandebony.tumblr.com)

"You're staring."

Ignis is right, but there's no way in hell Gladio is about to admit to it.

"You can't prove that." There's enough laughter in his voice to serve as a confirmation, enough warmth that he's sure it can't really matter too much. And it's not as though Gladio could be blamed. Looking away from Ignis, all resplendent in white, would be the most unspeakable, damning sort of sin. 

"It's bad luck," but Ignis takes a step toward him with those words and he cups a hand on Gladio's cheek, runs his thumb all gentle reverence down the line of an old scar. Gladio tilts into the touch in return, tilts further so he can press a kiss into his palm.

"Only if you're assuming  _ you're  _ the bride." His voice wavers between a chuckle and a challenge and it's tease enough to draw Ignis's lips into a smile. Good. Gladio is drowning well enough in his own nerves, but not so terminally that he can't feel the tension in Ignis's touch. Not quite a tremble, but a hesitation when his thumb drifts over Gladio's lower lip, runs through the rough wire beneath.

"Am I to assume instead that you're donning a gown and veil?"

"No veil yet, obviously." Gladio has the impression that he should, on some level, be offended with the way Ignis's hands find and manage to straighten his tie. He is utterly charmed instead, endeared in a way that makes his heart flutter beneath far too many layers of finery. Ignis and Perfection even now— _ especially  _ now—simply go hand-in-hand.

"I wonder how you managed to escape Iris's grasps. I suspect she'll be storming in after my  _ dear bride  _ any moment." 

"Convinced her it was important." Gladio doesn't mention that it didn't exactly take much convincing, once he had explained his plans. That's not important. No, maybe it's incredibly important, but the explanation less so. The explanation comes without words, with Gladio reaching for Ignis's hand and pressing an object into it. 

There is a moment where he is almost inclined to stop staring, to look away sharply. It comes as Ignis's fingers work over the small statuette, just as recognition registers  and emotion strikes him. There's a beat of silence and Gladio would swear neither does so much as breathe. A misty haze passes at Ignis's half-open eye, sheds nearly too quickly for Gladio to catch. Just nearly though. He brushes the tear aside and waits.

He waits for Ignis to, almost on cue, regain his composure and tuck the trinket into his breast pocket.

"Something borrowed?" There's a thick, weighty emotion in his throat. Gladio wishes he could brush that away too.

"And blue." he finds his own voice just as heavy, his words just as difficult. They speak around the subject. They speak around an absence that is somehow more stark than it's been in months. They speak around a chair that will be left unseated at the reception and an honored spot at Ignis's side not to be filled and Gladio presses his palm over the sturdy outline resting at Ignis's heart.

"Old as well, I should say." Ignis makes an attempt at a laugh, and it's certainly more successful than anything Gladio would have been able to manage. It's enough to make him smile, even if it tightens his stomach, even if he's summoned up all that grief to rain down on them in heavy sheets. Time doesn't heal anything. Whoever said otherwise didn't have a fucking clue.

"Checkin' a lot of boxes there for such a little guy. Surprised Prompto was willing to give him up." Gladio pats the covered figure and slides his hand to rest instead at Ignis's hip. He's quick in his shift, to brush his cheek against Ignis's, to follow with a brief kiss.

"That's  _ definitely  _ against the rules."

"Couldn't wait. Nobody has to know." It's enough to lighten their demeanors by a degree or two, to share another smile between them, however sad. Maybe it was a mistake, pulling Noct's presence so close again on a day that should be so undeniably happy; pulling him close when he's entirely, impossibly far beyond their reach. Gladio opens his mouth, an apology at the ready, but Ignis interrupts with the quickest brush of lips, gentle heat of breath and swipe of tongue, just enough to tune his thoughts perfectly to the present.

"You'll have to let that hold you over. Go, before you're missed too much." Ignis's voice still carries that hint of emotion and though he gives Gladio a playful press away, he lets his hand fall and linger for a second against Gladio's, "Thank you. It means a lot. To have some part of him here."

"Means a lot to me, too." Gladio's hand closes, squeezes around Ignis's for just a moment before he's pushed away again.

"Of course. Now get out of here, before I tell Iris to call the whole thing off." There's a proper sort of mirth between them with that tease and Gladio makes a point of taking a wide step back and getting a hand tugging at the door's handle.

"Meet you at the altar, then." Gladio lets himself out of the room with backwards steps, never quite able to take his eyes away from his groom. 


End file.
